Blackwater Banks - Paul Heaton, Jacqui Abbott

It wasn’t the ferry to Dublin

Arrival at last on your shore

It wasn’t the shamrock awaiting

On each pint of Guinness you pour

It was Oonagh and Anne in Kilkenny

It was Seamus and Patrick in Cork

It was Callum in Limerick, Aoefe in Galway

And the folk of this island, for sure

And the folk of this island, for sure…

Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots

Were never in briefcases, never in suits

Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks

But down by the Blackwater Banks

And it wasn’t the pride of East Belfast

With its red, white, and blue to the floor

It wasn’t the calls from Divis to Falls

Of 'No, nay, never, no more'

It was Barry and James up in Derek

As we finally headed back east

And reluctantly boarded our ferry

Each time, you felt closer to peace

Each time, you felt closer to peace

Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots

Were never in briefcases, never in suits

Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks

But down by the Blackwater Banks

Oh, woah-oh…

Woah, oh…

I’ve pedalled from Larne down to Wexford

Via Roscommon, Galway, and Clare

And Tipperary’s so far, 'cause every damn bar

Is pulling and diverting you there

It was Tully’s in Kinvara, Murphy’s in Thomastown

In Cahir, the old Punter’s Rest

In Ireland, you mention you’re leaving

And the likelihood seems to get less

Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots

Were never in briefcases, never in suits

Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks

But down by the Blackwater Banks

Down by the Blackwater Banks…

Down by the Liffey

Down by the Shannon

Down by the Blackwater Banks…